Dear Thomas, James, and Margot,
One of the great gifts in life is learning to see the world through the lens of opportunity. Not in the slick, shallow sense of taking advantage of others—but in the deeper, more powerful sense of recognizing what’s possible and moving toward it with courage.
Some people are wired to see problems. Others see potential. That’s the difference. One person walks into a room and thinks, This won’t work. Another walks into the same room and thinks, What could this become? It’s not about intelligence or luck. It’s about how you choose to see.
I’ve always believed the world rewards those who are willing to move. Those who say yes. Those who show up. Opportunity doesn’t always come wrapped in a bow or marked with a flashing sign. More often, it shows up dressed in uncertainty, risk, or inconvenience. And if you’re waiting for perfect clarity, you’ll wait your whole life.
Most of the good things in my life didn’t happen because I was the smartest or the most qualified. They happened because I showed up when others didn’t. I raised my hand even when I was nervous. I tried things I wasn’t sure would work. I said yes before I had it all figured out. Not every move was right—but every move led me somewhere I wouldn’t have gone otherwise. And that’s the whole point.
You won’t always know which path is best. But I promise you this: the path that leads to growth almost always looks harder at first. That’s why so few people take it. But if you want to live a full life—if you want to feel alive—you have to be willing to go toward what’s unfamiliar. That’s where opportunity lives. Not in comfort. Not in routine. But in motion. In momentum. In trying.
I’ve learned that most opportunities don’t look like opportunities at all when they first appear. They look like risk. They look like failure. They look like rejection. But sometimes, the setback is the setup. Sometimes the detour is the real road. You just have to stay open long enough to find out.
When I was young, I read a story about two shoe salesmen sent to a remote village. One wrote back: No one here wears shoes—no opportunity. The other wrote: No one here wears shoes—huge opportunity. Same place. Same facts. Completely different conclusions. I’ve never forgotten that.
The way you choose to interpret the world matters. If you believe there’s something worth finding, you’re far more likely to find it. If you believe things are rigged, stacked, or hopeless, that belief becomes a cage. The world reflects what you expect of it.
This is why I hope you build the habit of looking for what’s possible. Not in some forced, toxic-positivity kind of way—but in a quiet, confident way. The way an artist looks at a blank canvas. The way an explorer looks at a horizon. The way a builder looks at a pile of materials and sees a home.
You’re going to have moments where everything feels uncertain. Moments when it’s easier to stay put, to keep doing what you’ve done. That’s human. But I hope you’ll learn to lean forward instead of back. To trust that something beautiful might exist just beyond what you can see right now.
Opportunity doesn’t belong to the lucky. It belongs to the alert. To those willing to listen closely. To move quickly. To try when others hesitate. And most of all, to those who keep going—even when things don’t go their way.
Don’t wait for permission. Don’t wait to be perfect. Don’t wait until it’s easy.
Say yes. Go try. Be bold.
And wherever life takes you, keep looking for the opening others missed.
I love you always,
your Dad
If today’s message resonated, I hope you’ll take a moment to reflect on the opportunities in your own life—the ones you’ve seized, and maybe the ones you’ve missed—and what might happen if you chose to lean forward just a little more.
I publish new episodes every weekday, with personal letters like this one every Monday. If this is a voice you want more of in your life, please consider subscribing on Substack, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen. And if you know someone who could use this message today, send it their way.
Until next time, keep showing up, keep saying yes, and keep building a life you’re proud to live.
Onward.
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